


Scraps

by daemoninwhite



Series: The Way You Make Me Want to Live Instead of Die [4]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Alpha Bruce Wayne, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Lingerie, M/M, Omega Jason Todd, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pseudo-Incest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-05
Updated: 2019-01-04
Packaged: 2019-10-04 13:52:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17305796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daemoninwhite/pseuds/daemoninwhite
Summary: This fic is bits that no longer work in the fic itself, but I've put too much time into to delete.





	Scraps

**Author's Note:**

> This is non-canon to the fic'verse. Also, this is why it took me so long to get the fic out, writing this was difficult and I couldn't figure out why it wasn't working. Then I switched p.o.vs and it came a lot easier.

Bruce has known for some time now that there are companies that produce recreational versions of the Batman and Robin costumes. They’re hard to avoid on Halloween, and the alerts he’s set up of all of their codenames has resulted in some … questionable hits from pornography websites. He really ought to look into getting those removed – the last thing Jason needs is to innocently Google his codename one night and to be confronted with … that. Especially given what has occurred in the past. It’s not just semi accurate recreations, however – several companies have put out ‘inspired by’ clothing lines, and he believes that there’s even a few make up sets floating around.

So yes, he is aware that people recreate and transform his and his partners’ uniforms into other forms. That doesn’t save him from having the breath knocked out of him when he walks into his bedroom after an unusually quiet night to find Jason sitting on his bed.

Jason, in nothing but a sheer, pastel red baby doll and a pair of lacy green panties.

Bruce freezes in the doorway, his hold on the doorframe the only thing that keeps him on his feet. The lingerie is clearly made for Jason, the dress cups his breasts perfectly and he doesn’t spill out of the panties. This isn’t a set made for some unnamed, generic omega, this is Jason’s. He’s flooded with rage at the realisation that someone must have put their hands on Jason to have created something that fits so flawlessly, but then Jason smiles, fiddles with the bow holding the top together, looks up at Bruce through his eyelashes and asks,

“Do you like it?”

And his darling omega bites his lip. Like there’s a chance that Bruce might reject this, this absolute _vision_.

“You look stunning,” he replies honestly, his voice already hoarse with arousal.

Jason ducks his head, but he can’t hide the genuine smile that spreads across his face. “Then what’re you doing all the way over there?”

Bruce tugs off his tank top, throws it vaguely in the direction of the laundry basket, and crawls into bed with Jason. 

Jason lets Bruce push him until he’s flat on his back. Bruce doesn’t touch him, just drinks in the sight that Jason makes. Jason is always beautiful, but the thought that Jason has thought this out, saw this outfit in some store somewhere and thought that Bruce would like it, and summoned the courage to have it made and wear it for him … pure, utter adoration wells up inside of Bruce. The Jason from the beginning of their relationship as alpha and omega would never have the faith in their relationship, in Bruce’s genuine attraction to him, to buy something as blatantly sexual as this.

“You’re gorgeous,” Bruce says honestly, brushes some of Jason’s curls aside, cups that darling face.

Jason flushes but instead of drawing back, as he has done in the past when Bruce has paid him his rightful due of compliments, he nuzzles into Bruce’s palm. 

“Make love to me?” He murmurs, so quietly that Bruce more makes out the words from the movement of Jason’s lips against his hand then hears them.

“Always,” Bruce replies in the same tone. His gut is still warm with lust, but he instantly abandons his fledgling plans for something rough and fast. He wants to reward Jason – needs to thank him.

He leans down and kisses Jason. They’ve spent enough time kissing – just kissing, long, languid sessions that have no goal but that – to instantly fall into the slow, slick rhythm. Jason twins his arms around Bruce’s neck and tugs him down until Bruce’s chest presses against Jason’s. Bruce breaks, turns his head, pants opened-mouth against Jason’s neck – that sheer, delicate material, taught over Jason’s soft breasts, drags against his chest, the lace edging catches in his chest hair and the slight tug is electric. Jason shudders underneath him and the material is fine enough that Bruce is able to feel as Jason’s nipples go hard. 

“Bruce,” Jason breathes.

“Jay.”

Bruce kisses Jason’s neck, trails kisses up to Jason’s ear and bites gently at his earlobe. Jason giggles and shivers again. 

He pulls Bruce’s hair and Bruce follows the unspoken directions until they look each other in the eye again. Jason grins, wide and delighted, his eyes sparkle and his cheek flush. “You know I’m ticklish there!”

Bruce can’t stop himself from smiling back. He feels dopey with adoration. “I do.”

Jason mock-pouts. “Bruuuuccccce.” He rakes his nails through Bruce’s hair.

Bruce drops a quick kiss onto the corner of his mouth. He’s going to say something, but it vanishes from his mind as Jason’s tongue darts out just slightly. Jason’s hands tighten in his hair and they kiss again. Bruce slides a hand underneath Jason’s neck and lifts him up a little, angles them better together. Their mouths slot together like they’re each made to be kissing the other.

“Bruce,” Jason murmurs as they break apart for air.

Bruce trails kisses over Jason’s face – proper kisses, Eskimo kisses, butterfly kisses, whatever strikes his fancy and won’t separate him from Jason for too long.

“Bruce,” Jason murmurs again. This time his tone is full of fond exasperation, and again he uses his hold on Bruce’s hair like reins. 

Yet again, Bruce can’t stop a smile from spreading over his face. “Yes, dear?”

Jason tugs his hair again, not to pull him in a direction, but as a mild, fond punishment that probably doesn’t have the effect he intended. “Aren’t you going to unwrap me?”

Bruce feigns surprise. “So that’s what this bow was about!” He runs his fingers over the bow in question, gives a little tug to test how tightly it is tied.

“Yes,” Jason hisses and tugs hard at Bruce’s hair.

Bruce moans and his hand jerks and he pulls the bow apart.

Jason’s breasts fall out like an offering. Bruce buries his face between them, luxuriates in the warm, soft flesh, the faint thump of Jason’s heart, and the smell of Jason’s skin. He surrounds himself in physical signs that his boy is living, is thriving, and sentimentality floods him so suddenly that he nearly tears up.

He pulls back a little, kisses his way over the area where Jason’s breasts rise out from his chest. The flesh gives more there and Bruce sucks gently, bites gently, leaves red blotches in his wake. Jason has truly blossomed into the perfect male omega, his breasts are on the smaller side but that’s to be expected, they won’t grow unless he gets pregnant.

(The thought strikes Bruce like lightning: Jason, his breasts heavy with milk and his stomach heavy with child. Bruce’s child.)

Bruce shakes his head, deliberately hides his actions by scraping his stubble against the freshly-tenderised skin. Jason giggles, gasps, wraps his legs around Bruce’s waist to hold him close.

“Bruucccce,” Jason slurs. He pulls Bruce’s head where he wants it, and Bruce obediently takes a nipple into his mouth. He sucks, nips, his other hand cups Jason’s free breast and squeezes a little, revels in the give of flesh beneath his touch, again, the thought springs to mind, of squeezing and feeling milk spurt out between his fingers…

It’s a conversation that they should have.

Later.

Much later.


End file.
